


Perfect Things

by rainfall



Series: Power and Control [2]
Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Dubious Consent, Hypnotism, M/M, Mind Control, Pre-Canon, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-13
Updated: 2012-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-29 10:53:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/319105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainfall/pseuds/rainfall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexei continues a very thorough experiment with a blastia device of his own design.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect Things

**Author's Note:**

> Does _not_ use First Strike canon. Sequel to Necessary Things, which means it also contains **dubcon** and **mind control**. You have been warned! Or enticed, if that's your cup of tea. c:

Voices rang out across the landscape, three dozen knights in less-than-perfect formation. Some clashed sword against sword; others stood on the perimeter, firing volleys of arrows. The mages were a class apart, a hard line encircling the rest, their spells streaks of color that struck down many an unwary man.

It was a scene of highly-disciplined chaos. A perfectly ordinary field exercise. And at the center of it...

"Guardian Field!"

Alexei Dinoia steepled his hands as he watched from the crest of the nearest hill, his eyes intent on a single figure. A young man, in the blue-green of the Niren Brigade, plunging his sword into the ground beside a fallen comrade. There were bigger and more impressive healing spells; and dedicated healers among the mages, one of whom was now hurrying to cast a Healing Circle.

But Guardian Field kept the knight on his feet, and allowed him to return an attack that might otherwise have been debilitating. It was precisely the right arte for the circumstance.

Beside him, Khroma tilted her head with thoughtful interest. "That was quick thinking," she murmured.

Alexei closed his eyes. "They are an able group," he allowed, and ignored the pointed stare he knew would come. "You should return to the castle."

"...Yes, Lord Alexei." Her voice was tight, the words slightly clipped.

For an instant, he regretted his tone; Khroma was and always had been a steadfast and loyal companion. But her implication chafed him, and he would not brook an apology. When she turned to leave, he merely let her go -- and kept his own vigil, watching the knights below.

Watching, perhaps, one particular knight more closely than the others.

Not that he didn't have good reason for his -- fixed eye, of course. The others were men and women under his command, each important in their own ways, but Flynn Scifo was...

...Flynn Scifo was an _experiment_. And that made all the difference in the world.

As Commandant -- as Captain, as Lieutenant -- Alexei was an exacting taskmaster. Of every man under his direct control, he expected commitment and loyalty. A certain level of intelligence. A very certain level of independence. And commitment -- not just to the Empire, but the world at large. He wanted drive and ambition, and a passion to right the system's infinite wrongs.

But the expectations of Alexei the Commandant were as nothing to the requirements of Alexei the scientist. Of every man under his _control_ , Alexei demanded... perfection.

The exercise was coming to an end, now; gels were being distributed and healers were tending to every minor wound. He strode down the hill and walked among them, supervising with a glance and nodding in faint acknowledgment when they hastened to bow.

"Excellent technique," he said to one mage, pausing to watch her apply a very precise First Aid to a knight's shoulder. "Private Luella Amsterng, isn't it?" She bloomed ever so slightly under the praise, and he moved on.

Nearly there, now; was his pulse quickening? Why should that be.

And then young Flynn Scifo came into view.

Alexei paused, watching him for a lengthy moment. He was in full armor, regalia hardly tarnished from the hours of mock battle, visually distinct from the mages hard at work around him -- but kneeling with them and lending his artes wherever he could.

The tight black sleeves did little to conceal the rapid movement of his muscles as he drew spell after spell in the air... and then abruptly he stiffened, the faintest color coming into his face, and let his last application of First Aid fall apart.

"I'm -- sorry," Alexei heard him say as soon as he could speak. "I think I need an... orange gel. If you don't mind waiting..."

Alexei found himself closing the space between them, watched his own hand settle on the boy's shoulder. "A word with you, Private," he murmured, and felt the shiver through all the layers of cloth and metal between their skin.

He could see Flynn's throat work from his angle, and studied it. This wasn't the first time one of his requests had prompted such an oddly-anticipatory reaction, even though of course there was no reason for it. The boy had nothing to anticipate; not consciously, at any rate. But his body... still seemed to possess some level of muscle-memory.

"Of course, Commandant," he said, and now came the more-expected smile; the slight flush of proud pleasure that his commanding officer might want to single him out for anything. Instruction, praise... anything at all.

Or perhaps this flush was for the same reason as the last.

Alexei tightened his grip on the boy's shoulder, in what for all the world looked like warm reaffirmation. Then he released it and turned to leave the battlefield, this time with Flynn Scifo at his heels.

They had an encampment here, not so far from Zaphias that it could be considered truly dangerous, but still far enough to make the basic barrier necessary after dark. The men had their tents, half a dozen in neat rows segregated by gender; and he had his, a smaller single tent at the head of their formation.

Tradition dictated that a commandant's tent be the largest and most expensive, but he had always found the smaller tent to be just as comfortable and considerably less wasteful. The basic barrier would only last one night regardless, so why spend so much more...?

Besides, it was a useful symbol, setting him apart from his predecessors. His men appreciated it -- this one, small gesture to show that he did not consider himself so much greater than those under his command.

As they approached it, he could see that the humility of it was having a similar effect on the boy beside him: eyes widening and then hastily falling to the ground.

Alexei permitted himself a small, faint smile and bent down to unfasten the flap. "We will be able to speak more comfortably in here," he announced, although the explanation was quite unnecessary.

After all, Flynn Scifo trusted him -- beyond reproach.

"Yes, sir," the boy said at once, and went into the tent ahead of him.

Alexei watched him, still with the faint smile, and then followed him. He took his time fastening the tent flap shut again, murmuring, "Have you ever considered becoming a mage?"

"You mean -- a knight-mage, Sir? Oh..." The soft sounds of Flynn as he shifted from foot to foot; even in this small tent, there was still room to stand comfortably. "Yes, but -- I believe my real talent lies with the sword. I am proud of what I have learned of magic..."

"You could be a healer," Alexei observed. One last button. "You use the artes often enough."

"Sir--"

"You have," Alexei continued, with something that felt almost like amusement, "the characteristic mark on your left thumb." It was strange, truthfully; he shouldn't have had opportunity enough in field exercises to develop the dark mark. Not when he had only been enlisted for -- almost a year, now. Well, perhaps...

Behind him, Flynn shifted again. "I would be honored to make more use of my healing artes, if that's what you would have of me, Sir. I only thought--" But then he cut himself off, this time with a low sound.

Almost, Alexei reflected, a _groan_.

He fastened the last button, and straightened, turning to face the boy with his full attention.

" _At ease_ , Private. We are very much alone now," he murmured, and the effect that these simple but carefully-chosen words had on Flynn Scifo's posture was really quite impressive.

Hands went immediately to the collar of his uniform and began unfastening it. He shrugged out of his spaulders, letting them fall to the floor of the tent with a soft _thunk_. His gauntlets followed them, and then his blue-green vest. The tight black turtleneck came _up_ , and the first inch of skin was revealed.

Because _at ease_ , for this one knight, and only when they were alone, meant completely naked.

There was nothing strange about it, in Flynn's mind. There was nothing strange about any of the things his commandant asked of him. Repeated sessions with the blastia had ensured that. Although there were still the occasional, inexplicable moments of hesitation...

But that was why the experiment continued. Because Alexei Dinoia required perfection, and perfection had not yet been achieved.

Alexei watched it all with, of course, the appropriate dispassion. The boy was aesthetically pleasing in his nudity; muscled like a race horse, slender but powerful, and -- objectively speaking -- good-looking as well. His resistance was... fascinating, admittedly, and he certainly had the makings of an able knight -- but that was as far as Alexei's interest went. As soon as he had perfected this process, as soon as his control over this boy could be accurately called _absolute_ , the interest would fade.

It was that simple.

Still, when the last article of clothing had been shed and Flynn Scifo stood before him in the customary attentive pose any knight would have taken, seemingly unaware of how it exposed him... Alexei found his breath mysteriously caught.

"Down on your knees," he murmured. "Legs apart. You have been -- shifting, Private. Are you not now more comfortable?"

The boy knelt on his command, and as if on cue the change in position caused another flushed sound to spill from his lips. "I-- No, Sir," Flynn said. "I'm... I'm very -- comfortable, Sir."

"Is it the new regulations?" Alexei suggested, circling him and letting his eyes dip slowly lower over the smooth flesh. At the base of the boy's spine, a telltale shiver. "Are they too difficult for you?"

Phrased like that, what choice did Flynn have? "No -- no, Sir, of course... not..."

"Lift your hips," Alexei told him, and watched his body comply even as the embarrassment turned what little of his face was visible a darker red. "Allow me to inspect its -- placement."

The explanation was unnecessary, because the boy _knew_ that, once he was _at ease_ , all of his superior's commands were to be followed without question -- no matter how embarrassing they might be. But Alexei found that he occasionally offered them regardless.

Slowly, Flynn shifted forward, until his cheek rested on the floor of the tent and his hips were thrust back, exposing the... new regulations.

_In order to test your focus, it is now mandatory that knights perform all duties while wearing one of these experimental blastia._

The blastia was small, in the shape of a plug; perhaps the diameter of a gald coin, and no longer than a man's finger to the first knuckle. It spread the fragile entrance to Flynn's body, holding him helplessly open, and occasionally responded to absorbed kinetic energy by vibrating itself.

Just occasionally enough to make the boy blush when he shifted unfortunately.

Alexei pressed the tip of his gloved index finger to what little of the plug protruded from Flynn's body. Then he pushed down, lightly.

"Sir--" The boy's voice was throaty with something.

"Yes, Private?" Alexei traced a quick circle over the plug, and the energy of the motion caused it to hum under his touch. "Is there something you... need?"

An inarticulate noise, keening in pitch as he repeated the circle. "The -- the placement..." He struggled for breath. "The placement -- is fine, isn't... it...?"

He was clearly doing his best to hold still for the... inspection. Alexei murmured, "Is it?" and gripped the plug carefully, pulling it slowly out. With each millimeter, the boy trembled.

"C-- Commandant, I don't... _ah_."

It was almost completely free of his flesh now. Alexei gave him a moment to adjust to the emptiness, waiting until he had almost completely recovered, and then buried the plug again in one clean stroke, wringing a sharp cry from the boy's throat.

"...There," he said, ignoring the alien sound of his own voice. "I believe that placement is -- much more satisfactory."

Flynn said nothing, but his knuckles were white knots against the dark floor of the tent and his body heaved with his every ragged breath.

Dimly, Alexei was aware of a rushing in his ears. His own heart, pumping blood at far too high a speed. His lips and throat were both unaccountably dry. There was heat between his legs, swelling responsively at this sight, aching in time with his pulse. And it was time -- perhaps past time -- to ease that ache.

He allowed himself to gaze, for a moment longer, at the bent body so completely within his reach. It would have been a simple matter of removing the toy and angling the boy's hips back to sheath himself in Flynn Scifo's helplessly willing flesh. He could vividly imagine the warm, silken vice that channel would make in this moment, and the urge was nigh-irresistible.

But Alexei Dinoia was a man who had made a career out of resisting the most irresistible of temptations, and so he wet his lips and instead uttered, "I believe I have corrected the error, Private. Up on your knees, and keep your legs apart. I require -- a report."

These words, too, had a specific meaning once the boy was _at ease_. Flynn sat up again and waited while he circled back around, then lifted his eyes to the front of his superior's slacks. Their remarkable blue, usually so clear and bright, was hazy now with anticipation as he parted his lips.

Anticipation he should not have felt; anticipation he likely did not consciously feel. His body was simply responding to old cues.

"Whatever... I can do for you, Sir."

Alexei almost smiled. "Is that your only motivation, Private? Strange. I had been under the impression that you _enjoyed_ giving... reports."

Now that he was sitting up again, with his thighs parted, the boy's cock was eminently noticeable. It was dark with blood and visibly slick at the tip, hard enough to stand very nearly straight. His suggestion had, Alexei rather thought, only made it stiffer.

"I..." Flynn did not seem to know quite how to answer, his brow furrowing briefly.

This time, Alexei did smile, if only faintly. "Your enjoyment is _intense_ , Private. Perhaps even unseemly." While these words settled in, staining the boy's cheeks a deeper red, Alexei began to open the front of his pants. There was no need, just yet, to remove more clothing. "But there's little you can do about that. It isn't entirely your fault that giving reports -- feels so very, very good. Or that the mere thought is enough to make your mouth water."

It was still so -- interesting to watch new suggestions take hold: to watch Flynn widen his stance and shudder as the words made his arousal ever more demanding, to watch his lips glisten with saliva as the words made even his glands respond.

Interesting was still the appropriate word.

Alexei drew his own cock from his pants and stroked it, once, because once was all it took to bring himself to full erection. He said, "You may begin."

And Flynn, whose attention was so fixed on his flesh, fingers tight again on the tent floor, leaned up immediately to take the tip of it into his mouth, tongue curling eagerly over the bead of liquid that had somehow gathered there, already starting to sink deeper--

It may have been a miscalculation, Alexei reflected numbly, to begin this particular procedure without first seating himself. There was nothing in the tent to hold onto except the fragile spokes that kept its shape, and Flynn was swallowing him down with uncontrolled hunger, smothering sounds of pleasure and need as the act of licking, the act of sucking, the act of _reporting_ reverberated through his own body with all the enjoyment he had been told to find there.

Alexei caught him by the hair, but his grip was oddly weakened and instead of _stopping_ the boy it was all he could do to cling to him, shivering deeply as Flynn worked his flesh with more skill than these few, scattered sessions should have rightly afforded him.

He was aware of his own breathing: thick, almost watery. He was aware of his rapid pulse. He was aware of the ache between his legs and of Flynn's tongue, Flynn's lips, Flynn's mouth drawing on him as though in desperate need of his pleasure -- of his climax -- of his _seed_. He was aware of the softness of Flynn's golden hair, though he could not precisely feel it through the gloves that encased his bloodless fingers...

And then he was aware of nothing, for a long white moment.

Flynn drank his seed, swallowing in quick gulps, and then stilled against him, all but literally simmering with contentment. When he drew back, his voice was raw. "Was that... report -- satisfactory...?"

 _No_ , Alexei thought but did not say. The world was coming back to him in pieces, and at first he felt nothing but a burning frustration. Indignation, perhaps. He had not intended to...

It served no _purpose_ to...

And so -- quickly. Not since he was a much younger man had he...

But he forced himself to chuckle softly. "I wonder," he said. "Do you _feel_ satisfied, Private?" And contented himself with the knowledge that the boy felt anything but.

"...I..." Flynn licked his lips, easing slowly back. If the prolonged grip on his hair or the metal of Alexei's gauntlet cutting into his scalp had caused any discomfort, he gave no sign now. Distracted, perhaps, by the more pronounced discomfort between his thighs. "Satisfied is -- not the word I would use, Sir," he managed at length.

His lips were flushed and swollen. His pupils, blown. When he breathed, it was through his open mouth. And his cock, darker now and wetter with his pre-ejaculate, bobbed with every breath. Pulsed, Alexei fancied he could almost see, with every beat of his heart.

Alexei shifted the grip on his hair and urged him to tip his head back. He gazed into eyes that were almost black, only rimmed with an electric blue. And he said, "Were you injured in that skirmish?"

The boy gazed back up at him, breathing shallowly. "Injured?" he repeated softly.

Then something in his expression changed. It was a very small change, infinitesimal, but Alexei still made note of it, because this was another one of those things that should not have happened with the level of control Flynn Scifo was under.

"--Yes," Flynn said, shivering. "Yes, I was -- injured. I need... medical attention." On the last words, he drew on his bottom lip with something almost like hunger. Anticipation, conscious anticipation, for something he shouldn't have known was coming.

Alexei studied him for a moment longer, then released his hair and suggested, "There are plenty of gels in the first aid kit at the far end of the tent, beside my bedroll. I trust you know the proper application procedure?" he added, the words slightly more pointed than he meant for them to be.

"Captain Niren was very thorough," the boy agreed at once, but less defensively than he had the last time. "I've done it... many times before."

If Alexei hadn't known better, he might have thought there was a faintly suggestive curl about that sentence.

"Retrieve a gel," he said.

Flynn shivered once, then stood up -- slowly and carefully, because the plug was still there, inside his body -- and turned away to look for the first aid kit. There was nothing languid in his movements, none of the awkward halting sleepwalker, but that was only natural; he wasn't truly _under_ , after all, only responding to layers and layers of suggestion that Alexei had carefully built over multiple sessions.

It was all... very safe, if not yet _perfectly_ so.

Still, as Flynn bent to open the kit, Alexei found himself stepping forward. " _Do_ be careful, Private. They may be medical supplies, but those gels also contain a potent aphrodisiac. Topical application might cause the afflicted area to become... most sensitized."

He watched the boy very carefully for his response, and was satisfied when Flynn did not pause; it was almost as if he hadn't even heard the words. There was, perhaps, a certain _caution_ as he removed a packet of gels, tearing one open for use -- but that was only appropriate. After all, he had been _told_ to be careful.

"Do you remember the procedure?" Alexei asked him, mild.

The boy nodded and went down on his back, spreading his legs and lifting his knees. Intentionally or not, he had turned around again and the plug between his legs was _very_ visible. Everything between his legs was very visible.

"And now?"

"Now I warm the gel with my fingers," Flynn said, and did so -- carefully. "To make it easier to spread."

"That's right," Alexei murmured, watching him.

His hands went down over the length of his body, touching nothing until they found their target: the stretched skin of his entrance, which he coated quickly with gel.

Alexei closed the distance between them with measured steps.

"Do you feel it yet?" he asked, when he stood just between the boy's ankles. "The aphrodisiac takes effect quite -- rapidly, in my experience. Tell me," he added, "how you feel."

"Haah..." Flynn turned his cheek into the bedroll's slim pillow, his throat flushed. "I feel..." He bit down on his lip, but at the same time he dragged a fingertip lingeringly over the ring of muscle. "I feel strange," he whispered.

Of course he did. Alexei took a slow, steadying breath, then began to undress at least -- unhooking his spaulders, unfastening the collar of his tunic. As he worked, he said, "I believe the new regulations are very specific about -- removal."

Beneath him, Flynn Scifo wet his lips and then found the base of the plug with his fingers, starting to tug it free -- and freezing up, the sensation rippling through him. "Ah..."

The sight of him, the sound of his voice...

"Tell me," Alexei repeated softly, "how you feel."

"It's -- it's..." The color rose higher in his cheeks and he tugged the plug another so-small increment free, then -- because the new regulations were very specific -- plunged it back in again with a low groan. "Oh, gods... I'm so close..."

Spaulders, tunic, cape; belt, plackard; rerebraces, vambraces, gauntlets, gloves; greaves, cuisses, sabatons. His regalia came off in pieces while he watched the boy tease himself, prying the plug from his body and then pushing it back in.

Again and again, making only the scantest progress. He was panting heavily now, the muscle in his legs flexing restlessly.

There was no reason to hurry; the _removal_ could take fifteen minutes or more and Flynn would never find release, no matter how much pleasure he had been instructed to feel as the plug rubbed his insides.

Shirt. Leggings.

There was no reason to hurry, and yet Alexei's fingers were unsteady as they settled on the band of his last article of clothing; and yet he felt a palpable sense of relief as he drew them down over his flesh. And yet, _his_ breathing was almost as quick, almost as reedy, as the boy beneath him.

A boy whose need was urgent enough to be painful.

"It's... it's so -- good..."

Alexei gazed down at him, taking in his smooth skin and the not-unappealing musculature of his body. Taking in his fingers, where they were wrapped tightly around the plug, and the flex in his forearms as he pulled it out and pushed it back in again by half. Taking in his expression, blue eyes blind with stimulation, mouth slack and wet with unfulfilled desire.

"So good," he repeated, fervent, and arched as the next half a millimeter struck home. "I feel -- like I'm... drowning..."

The pre-ejaculate was flowing almost freely now, coating his erection.

Somehow, Alexei found himself kneeling between the boy's legs. He did not quite remember deciding to move; only that he had wanted to. His hands settled on Flynn's and he was very conscious of it this time as he helped them to finally complete their motion, pulling the plug _out_ completely and drawing a long, low moan from Flynn.

"Ah... _ahhh_ \-- Yes, yes, no -- that's -- that's not... procedure, Sir..."

He was quaking, a wanton mess, but still he could think in those terms. Or, perhaps more accurately, still he was _forced_ to think in those terms.

"...There is an exemption," Alexei told him, and his voice was alien again. "When in the presence of a commanding officer, the procedure can be -- altered."

Flynn's eyes opened slowly, like the eyes of a doll, but there was something in them that shouldn't have been. His chest rose and fell with his rapid, shallow breathing. "--Understood, Sir."

He lifted his hips without needing to be told, and the entrance to his body was so -- very, very ready for an altered procedure.

Alexei inhaled and then exhaled. He moved into position, taking his own erection in hand and bringing it to the orifice. He recalled the boy's response to even his own fingers a moment before: recalled the boy's response to the cool, shallow penetration of the plug. He lifted his eyes to the boy's cock, so stiff and slick and tormented.

He said, "Do not feel that you have to hold back, Private. I would like a full account of your _exact_ feelings," and knew from experience -- and from the way his pupils constricted -- that Flynn Scifo would not hold back.

The first millimeter was always, always intense. He could never quite manage to remember the last time in vivid enough detail to prepare himself for the _tightness_ , the raw sensation of the boy's body, let alone his responsiveness.

" _Ah_!" Arms around his neck, one knee digging into his hip, fingers clawing into his hair. "Yes-- _Yes_ , ohhh--" Flynn arched up to meet him and he could feel the warm moist streak against his belly, the hot turgid line of the boy's cock. "I can't, ah, _can't_ \--"

Alexei touched his hip, the lightest grip to steady himself, and sank deeper, feeling the incredible heat parting smoothly around him with each incremental slide. The boy was still speaking, incoherent worship now.

"You're -- you're so good, it feels amazing, ohyesohplease-- Please don't stop--"

A sweat broke out on the back of his neck, on his brow. He still preferred a more leisurely session, but he could so easily have finished in this moment, with Flynn wrapped around him and clinging to him, with Flynn's fevered voice in his ear. He wasn't even completely sheathed yet.

Deeper and deeper, keeping his pace precise, refusing to give into the urge to rock his hips like a rutting adolescent even as the boy's heel dug desperately into his back, fingernails carving pale waxing crescents into his throat.

"I need-- C, Commandant -- Alexei -- Sir... _ah_ , I _need_...!"

The first stroke was always, always a battle. A war between his restraint, thirty-six years of indomitable will, and the temptations of a boy splayed beneath him who might, _might_ , be lucky enough to one day make captain.

It should have been a foregone conclusion. An easy victory.

"A... _Alexei_ \--"

Especially when the boy had so little ability to consciously _tempt_ him.

He drew back his hips and began to withdraw, pulling himself from Flynn's body breath by trembling breath. Fingernails pinched his skin and the boy lifted himself up off the bedroll, whimpering through clenched teeth, and he had to pause for a beat to reinforce his fraying self-control.

It should _not_ have been so -- difficult.

He should have ended this experiment a month ago, if not sooner. No: he should have ended it the moment he first confirmed that Flynn Scifo would take his orders. He should never have called the boy back into his office the next night and commanded him to look again at the device, and certainly not the night after that. He should never have drawn the boy deeper and deeper into his web, winding the strands ever tighter until he could make him wear a vibrating plug even while on duty, tending to the resultant _tension_ at every opportunity and still believing -- truly believing -- that it was all completely normal...

And _that_ thought should have cooled his ardor, instead of heating it anew.

Alexei gazed down at the boy beneath him, gasping with indescribable pleasure, breathless with overwhelming need, and wanted to feel pity. He had almost managed something like a pale shadow of it when Flynn, still shivering, opened his eyes and looked blurrily up at him.

"Don't... don't stop," he said thickly. "Please... Alexei... _Please_. I'll -- go crazy... if you stop -- now." He dragged his bottom lip between his teeth, lingeringly, and lidded his eyes.

And Alexei realized, dimly, how very wrong he had been to think he could end this experiment so -- prematurely.

"Of course," he murmured, and those lidded eyes lit. "I do apologize, Private. You must be... quite in need of release, by this point."

It was _not_ a loss, when he plunged back in deeper than ever before. It was not even a surrender. No: it was a calculated decision on his part. He had grown... weary of the _leisurely_ pace. And to characterize his new pace as frantic would have been -- grossly inaccurate.

 _In, in, in_. Someone was breathing like a wounded animal in his ear, an irritating distraction from the eager symphony of pleasure that spilled out of the boy with his every thrust. The world around him had grown inexplicably hazy and dark. In, in, in, in.

"Just like that," Flynn moaned, surging against him. "Yes-- _Yes_ , please-- I can't, I _can't_ \--"

Alexei bent to his ear, pressing his lips to the soft flesh, and told him huskily, "Yes. You _can_."

His permission was all the boy needed. Flynn stiffened, shuddered, and the seed struck his belly like a tidal wave crashing down. Hot and wet and powerful, everything he had held back for the last however many hours.

It was intense, intoxicating, and impossible not to get caught up in. It was... addictive.

A troubling thought, to be sure, but it melted away as the world once more went white.

From what felt like a very great distance, Alexei became aware of the sounds of movement outside his tent. His men returning to the encampment, all healing finished and all equipment cleaned. It was nearly midday now; soon they would begin to build the campfire up for a meal, and then there would be socializing.

Eventually, his absence would be noted.

Alexei disentangled himself from the boy and made the long journey to his feet. His body had recovered sufficiently; his respiration was now deep and even, his heart once more beating at its normal rate. Handkerchiefs would be needed, and clothing -- but otherwise...

Otherwise...

As he bent to retrieve a handkerchief, he took note of the fact that Flynn Scifo had not yet stirred. The boy was still curled on his side, one arm stretched out over the bedroll where he had recently lain. From the rhythm of his breathing and the peaceful expression on his face, Alexei deduced that he had fallen asleep.

Leggings, then shirt. Sabatons, cuisses, greaves.

It would not do to leave him here. The Commandant's tent was essentially inviolable, but _essentially_ was not the same as _absolutely_. There was also the chance, however slim, that his absence might be noted, and Alexei would then be expected to provide an explanation for it.

Gloves, gauntlets. Vambraces, rerebraces.

And no matter how he turned the problem over in his mind, there were no satisfying explanations coming. Especially not for the boy's state of dress, such as it currently was. He supposed there was, in the end, nothing for it.

Plackard, belt, tunic. Cape, spaulders -- and then he was fully-dressed. He smoothed the fabric, reached up to run gloved fingers through his hair, and knew even without a mirror that he was now eminently presentable.

Which left only the matter of Flynn Scifo.

Alexei strode back to head of his bedroll, but did not kneel down beside him. "Private," he uttered, loud enough to be heard but not quite loud enough to draw the attention of the men outside. " _Attention_."

This word, too, had a different meaning when they were alone -- and Flynn's subconscious recognized it, even if his conscious mind did not. Blue eyes fell open and the boy rolled onto his belly, rising quickly to his feet with remarkable coordination for someone who had, seconds before, been so completely asleep. "Sir, yes, Sir!" He punctuated the words with an attentive salute.

His clothing was still in a small pile on the floor of the tent, closer to the entrance, but he did not seem to feel its absence in this moment. Or, if he felt it, did not think there was anything particularly strange about saluting a commanding officer while nude.

Because, of course, there wasn't. Alexei allowed his gaze to dip low, tracing every curve of muscle beneath the boy's smooth skin. Lingering on his softened cock and the streaks of his release. There was very little time and he really ought to have ordered Flynn to put his uniform back on and leave the tent, but...

Instead, Alexei murmured, "You are quite the sight, Private. Allow me to assist you in... becoming more presentable."

The boy lowered his eyes with embarrassment at the reprimand, but lifted them again at the unexpected offer. "Sir," he said at once, "there's no need for you to trouble yourself over my..."

"Nonsense," Alexei interrupted him. "Widen your stance, Private, and hold -- very still."

This time, he did go down on his knees, ignoring the discomfort his plate caused him. He felt Flynn's hands catch his shoulders and then slide hesitantly into his hair, but he ignored them as well, parting his lips to lick up the first curl of smeared seed.

It was not an act in which he had ever before indulged. The taste was faintly bitter, and Flynn's skin beneath it salty with sweat. Yet, when the muscle under his lips tensed and the fingers in his hair tightened, Alexei found that it was not an act entirely without merit.

He bent his head lower, lips brushing the first coarse blond hairs and then skimming over tightening skin, tracing a newly-dark vein as the boy began to respond eagerly to his touch, listening with half an ear as breaths became sighs became _sounds_. No: not entirely without merit.

"Am I..." Flynn swallowed, and even from his current position it was audible. "Am I -- presentable yet...?"

Alexei dragged his tongue slowly over another stain, pressing his lips to the pulse point in the boy's cock. How his heart must have been pounding. He lifted his eyes, gazing up the length of Flynn's body, focusing briefly on the blood in his face and the glaze in his eyes.

He said, "Almost, Private," and forced himself to stand once more. "But I believe you are forgetting the... new regulations."

The words seem to dawn on Flynn very slowly. Then he blinked, and nodded breathlessly. "Of course, Sir. Sorry, Sir. I'll -- fix that right away."

As he bent to retrieve the plug, Alexei steadied himself. It was, if anything, odd that he had never attempted that particular act _before_. A proper experiment had to account for all possible variables, after all. Had he not put his tongue to Flynn Scifo's skin, he might never have known whether the suggestions would hold. Yes. It had been only appropriate to... ensure their structural integrity.

If the words had a hollow ring to them, Alexei attempted to pay it no mind.

"H, haah..."

The breathy sigh caught his attention and Alexei looked down to find that Flynn had the blastia plug and was working it slowly into the proper -- position. Lips pursed, eyes shut tightly, throat flushed with the exertion, but still he kept his focus with all the diligence one would expect of a knight charged with an important task.

Exactly as if he had been told to believe that that was what it was.

Perhaps, Alexei found himself thinking, it was all an illusion and there was nothing so very remarkable about this boy after all.

He went to the front of the tent to retrieve Flynn's clothing, listening again to the noise outside. They had almost finished cooking, from what he could overhear; idly he wondered whether it would be edible today. Culinary skill was not a requirement in the Imperial Knights, and some among them were much more adept than others, but their combined efforts were usually at least passable if not necessarily impressive. Last week's dinner had been an unfortunate exception, with partially-raw chicken masked by cinnamon and something not entirely unlike tabasco sauce. Solidarity was a trait he encouraged, and so he respected his men for refusing to divulge the identity of the knight responsible -- but it was difficult not to wonder...

And the question was a suitable distraction from the keening sounds now coming from the boy behind him. There was also a specific procedure for inserting the plug, and Flynn seemed to be following it with great devotion. He could all too easily envision the boy's forearms glistening with perspiration as he drew it out and then plunged it back in, again and again and again.

Alexei found his mouth watering and knew it wasn't the now-promising scent of the coming meal that enticed him.

"That's enough, Private," he said at last, when he could take no more of the soft, husky sounds. "I believe the blastia is now correctly positioned."

There was a long silence, broken only by heaving breaths, before Flynn managed to reply: "...Yes -- Sir..."

It would have been a mistake to turn, so Alexei stayed rigidly in place. "You are out of uniform," he observed. "That is a situation that should be rectified, Private."

Then he shut his eyes and listened as it was. The subtle _whoosh_ of fabric gliding over skin, the _chink_ as metal joints were adjusted, and the final _shinckt_ as Flynn Scifo fastened his belt. All of it slowed, ever so slightly, by the occasional stiffening and the occasional gasp as the plug came to life inside him.

Even without turning, he knew that Flynn Scifo was now eminently presentable.

"Dismissed, Private," Alexei told him.

One final word with a specific meaning when they were alone.

Behind him, the boy straightened conscientiously. He would move to leave the tent now and have no memory of their time together, except as a vague meeting where only appropriate things had transpired. Alexei would give him a moment and then follow him. They would not likely speak to one another again today -- or, perhaps, ever. The experiment could finally end here.

But then, with his hand on the tent flap, Flynn paused and looked back over his shoulder. A frown had settled on his face and in his eyes.

Alexei raised his eyebrows. "Yes, Private?" he asked, mildly. He had no particular expectations for the boy's response. With the word _dismissed_ , their session had ended.

There was no reason why Flynn should have looked directly at him, blue eyes oddly unfocused, and said, "May I have a moment of your time, Commandant? Later tonight. I need your assistance with something. I -- don't remember what it is, just at the moment, but I think I'll remember later."

No reason at all.

Alexei drew in a tight, not entirely controlled breath. "...Of course, Private," he murmured. "I happen to be a firm believer in the responsibility of a commanding officer to take care of his men, in... every capacity."

A shadow moved in the boy's eyes, and for an instant he seemed -- confused. He glanced around the tent, as if looking for something. Something he knew he had forgotten, even though he wasn't -- couldn't be -- quite sure _what_. Alexei held his breath, watching.

Then the moment passed, and he smiled, relief spreading over his face as his world very visibly clicked back into place. "--Thank you, Sir," he said, and bent to open the tent flap. With a few deft snaps of his wrist, he had it unfastened, and then he stepped out of the tent, into the midday sun, and was gone.

No, Alexei knew. The experiment was not over yet.

If anything, Flynn Scifo needed another layer of commands. New, more complex ones. Commands that would bind him so completely that he would never again come so close to breaking free. The strands of this web could be wound tighter still, and he would see to it that they were.

If he were ever to use his blasita on the people he _most_ needed to control, he had to be able to place absolute confidence in it. There could be none of this uncertainty. There must be only perfection.

For now, he would return to the castle. He would examine the underlying formula and check on his laboratory subjects.

He would keep his distance from his knights, and from one knight in particular.

As Commandant -- as Captain, as Lieutenant -- Alexei was an exacting taskmaster. Of every man under his direct control, he expected commitment and loyalty. A certain level of intelligence. A very certain level of independence. And commitment -- not just to the Empire, but the world at large. He wanted drive and ambition, and a passion to right the system's infinite wrongs.

But the expectations of Alexei the Commandant were as nothing to the requirements of Alexei the scientist. Of every man under his control, Alexei demanded... perfection.

Khroma had been -- incorrect, in her implication. As a knight, Flynn Scifo was indeed impressive. As a knight, he fulfilled Alexei's every expectation. But as an experiment...

As an experiment, he _defied_ them. And that was -- simply -- unacceptable.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you are more curious than Alexei, Flynn developed the healer's mark earlier than he should have because he uses his artes in the Lower Quarter for free. And yes, that's right -- the vibrator is essentially a tiny _heart blastia_. Don't worry, it power output is small enough that it's completely safe. c:
> 
> I made up an age for Alexei, but we know that a.) Flynn is the youngest Commandant ever and b.) that Alexei was already Commandant ten years ago. I like the idea of him in-game pushing forty, so here, three years before the game, he's thirty-six. ~~Yep, that's right. The whole game is just one big midlife crisis.~~


End file.
